


Infiltration and Inducement of Enemy Personnel

by dracofiend



Category: Chuck (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-24 08:48:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6148137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracofiend/pseuds/dracofiend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Casey resorts to inducement to get timely intel out of Chuck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Infiltration and Inducement of Enemy Personnel

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a follow-up to “No Casey Left Behind” and then spiraled out of control. It’s got a Season 1, early Season 2 kinda vibe.

“What did I tell you, Bartowski,” Casey growled, hot in Chuck’s ear as he jerked Chuck away from the Nerd Herd desk and dragged him back toward the storage cage.

“Wha—hey, I was planning on using that arm—” 

Chuck swallowed the rest of it as Casey spun him around and slammed him to the wall. The fluorescent lighting overhead cast dark grooves under Casey’s popped-wide eyes, and around his mouth, where his teeth were bared.

“I guess you didn’t get the message the last time we had our little _chat_ ”—Casey spat the word out, and a tiny projectile of saliva flicked onto Chuck’s face—“about running off to Walker. Heard about the new mission—guess everyone else had _already_ been _briefed._ ”

“No, look, buddy, I was going to tell you—” Chuck began, pushing his palms against Casey’s meaty shoulders.

“Just once I’d like _not,_ ” Casey said emphatically, “to be the last to know.” He cocked his head, cracking his neck. “What is it, hm? Too scared to confide in the big bad NSA agent with all the guns?” 

Chuck’s eyebrows lifted in denial. “I—no, that’s not”—but he quickly changed tactics at Casey’s sharp intake of breath through the nose, and his tightening knuckles digging into Chuck’s collarbone. “—well, I mean, Sarah _is_ a lot easier on the eyes, heh heh heh, and you know! You know”—he raised his chin to keep the air flowing—“she did ask me, way back, on the beach, well you weren’t there but that’s where it was, the day after I got the Intersect, she asked me to trust her, which has actually worked out okay so far…” He trailed off as Casey’s fists eased in his shirt and his Chuck Taylors touched solid ground. Casey’s psycho eyes had diminished to something verging on merely suspicious. 

“So you trust Walker because she _asked_ you to,” Casey said gutturally, every line in his face full of derision.

“Well, well—yeah,” Chuck replied, with an attempt to shrug that was curtailed by Casey’s heavy arms trapping him. Chuck pushed tentatively at the huge shoulders again, and Casey’s hands fell away.

“And the fact that you want to get in her pants has nothing to do with it,” Casey grunted.

“Well yeah—I mean no! I mean--that’s a trick question.” Chuck frowned as mightily as he dared, an inch and a half from John Casey’s face. Casey’s mouth parted, showing those sharp white teeth, and he narrowed his eyes. 

“Guess we’ll have to do this the hard way,” Casey said gruffly. Without warning he leaped forward, his palms hitting the wall, bracketing Chuck’s head. His eyes enlarged to their fullest, and he stared into Chuck’s off-guard face with a slow and frightening leer. “This is how it’s going to work,” he breathed. Chuck wanted to cough but the abrupt lump in his throat stopped him. “You’re going to come to me first, from now on. Got it?” His bright blue eyes twitched back and forth across Chuck’s, like a predatory bird hypnotizing its rodent prey before devouring it, bones and all. 

“Ha…heh,” Chuck exhaled weakly, feeling himself sweat in his armpits and the bottoms of his feet. “No, uh, no need to feel left out, bud, we’re all on the same team he—urp!”

Casey had just pushed his nose right up against Chuck’s—he growled, low in his throat, sending warmth and vibrations over Chuck’s mouth. “Eep!” Chuck couldn’t hold it in as Casey slowly _slid_ his cheek across Chuck’s, prickling the skin and sending goosebumps rising all over Chuck’s body. By the time Casey’s lips touched the edge of Chuck’s ear, Chuck felt certain he was ready to throw up, or pass out, or both. Then Casey started talking. Murmuring, in the quietest, lowest tones.

“You’re _my_ asset, Bartowski. Mine. I own you. You understand?” Chuck couldn’t keep his breathing even as Casey’s mouth nudged his ear, his hair; the massive swath of BuyMore green enveloped him completely, smothering Chuck in Casey’s unthinkable heat and muscle. “You will trust me,” Casey breathed, drawing the air in deeply, as if to inhale Chuck whole, “and you will like it.”

It was all Chuck could do to stand there, palpitating, as Casey hummed in his ear. When Casey finally drew back, Chuck almost fell over. Casey caught him with a bear-like palm against his chest, and stretched his mouth into a slow, shark-toothed smile. He raised his other hand up to Chuck’s neck, where Chuck’s pulse was going faster than a speeding bullet. “Are we clear?” Thick fingers squeezed into Chuck’s flesh, then relaxed into what Chuck only dimly registered as a caress. “Say yes, Chuck.”

Chuck nodded, unclear on what the hell was happening beyond the liquefaction of his knees and the pounding, overwhelming urge to give Casey what he wanted. 

*** 

“So, Casey,” Walker started, and Casey knew this was it. He gripped the steering wheel tightly and went into lockdown. He’d withstood thousands of interrogations in his career—often without the benefit of air, light, or clothing. This would be a piece of sweet peach pie. 

“I, um—I noticed Chuck is acting—differently around you lately,” Walker said, tentatively. It wasn’t like her. 

Casey grunted. He checked his mirror. They were on a quick trip out to the rendezvous point, to pick up surveillance equipment for upcoming missions. It’d be in and out, and there’d still be time for crappy corn dogs, freshly burned by Walker, before it was time to clock in again. 

Walker was silent for a few minutes. Then, “I know this will be uncomfortable, but for the sake of our job to protect the Intersect, I’m just going to ask. Are you using”—a brief hesitation—“inducement on Chuck?” 

Casey didn’t answer. He signaled, and changed lanes. 

“If you are, I need to know,” Walker tried.

Another long silence passed, during which Casey kept driving and didn’t even flex his jaw.

“We’re supposed to be working together, Casey,” Walker piped up again. Casey’s mouth may have tightened, but only for a second. He wished Walker would just give it up, despite knowing she wouldn’t. Not that he’d ever admit it, but she was as dedicated to her job—if disgustingly unprofessional—as he was to his. Casey snorted to himself. Getting involved with her partner, Larkin—now there was some bone-headed stupidity. You only got involved if you could shoot ‘em when the time came—every spy knew that. 

“Look, I know we don’t always see eye to eye, especially when it comes to the best way to handle Chuck—and I know you question my judgment, I know you think I sugarcoat the truth to spare his feelings.”

Damn right, sister, Casey thought but didn’t say. 

Walker let out a short sigh. Was she ready to concede? Casey thought it seemed too easy.

“It’s not that I think you’re taking the wrong approach,” Walker continued after another too-short pause, much to Casey’s ire. “You know how I initiated contact, after locating him.” She looked out the passenger-side window. “But I’m not sure if you realize how deeply attached he can get, and how quickly that can happen.”

Casey suppressed another snort. A loser stuck in a dead-end job, living with his sister, with nothing to do but play video games all day shooting fake bad guys who weren’t even actual people, but zombies, with his dwarfish pre-pubescent friend? Yeah, big surprise that the tiniest hint of something bigger in his life would get him all in a tizzy.

“He’s going to need you—not just your skills as an agent, or your concealed handguns, or your evasion and survival techniques—but you. Your actual, real, self.” Walker stopped, leaned back to the headrest. “Are you ready to give him that?”

That didn’t even merit a mental grunt in Casey’s book. What a load of bullshit, he wanted to say. That’s what spying was all about—making your enemies and your assets believe that what you showed them was, in fact, who you really were. If Walker couldn’t manage that, what the hell was she doing here, still suffocating in Burbank? 

***

“Switch to your Wraith,” Morgan instructed, punching buttons on his controller with increasing speed. “Nah, man, your Wraith!”

“Sorry pal, no can do, I’m loving this RAV,” Chuck answered, thumbs flying. “Think I’m headed for a new kill streak!”

“Ooooh, nice one!” Morgan shouted as Chuck took out another zombie. No one noticed the large barrel-shaped figure looming in the window.

“Bartowski!” Casey snapped.

“Aghh!” shrieked Chuck and Morgan. Controllers dropped to the floor; their players were immediately gunned down.

“Oh, dammit,” Morgan whined. “C’mon—John! What the hell, man? You just ruined Chuck’s kill streak here, he was gonna break 85 for sure this time!”

“Mine’s looking to go up by two if you don’t get your ass out here, Bartowski!” Casey barked. “Now!”

Morgan rose up. “Okay, no one talks that way to Chuck,” he said, with a menacing furrow to his brow that would’ve been more effective had he been anywhere near the window where Casey stood, his eyes and biceps bulging. “No one.” Casey’s lips parted to reveal clenched teeth—he suddenly wrested the windowpane wide open with a sweep of his arm and Morgan leaped back, almost into Chuck.

“But hey, you’re still kinda new around here, so maybe we can let it go this time—Chuck, hey, where you going? You just unlocked Seraph, you can’t leave now!”

“Look, it’s fine, okay Morgan? Let me just talk to him,” Chuck replied with a placating hand to his friend’s shoulder. 

“What, but—this is our thing, dude—”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” Chuck said, and he meant it, as always—but Casey was waiting, and Chuck didn’t want him to pop a vein. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise, okay? No, seriously, I will. I just—I gotta go.” 

“Okay, well—you’d better have him back by midnight, young man!” he called out to Casey as Chuck ducked out of the room to join Casey outside.

“Don’t wait up,” Casey grunted, before slipping away from the blinds and back into the night.

***

“You know,” Chuck grumbled as he caught up to Casey, “you really have to stop doing that. Morgan’s starting to wonder what’s going on.”

“Gee, I’m sorry, Bartowski,” Casey replied, striding half a step ahead. “I’ll just tell the General you had a date tonight—I’m sure she can reschedule the terrorism for some other time.” 

“It’s just I’ve already missed Mondays with Morgan twice in the last month—” 

Casey felt the hackles rise on his neck and his fingers close into fists. Two months in this hellhole and he’d already rage-trimmed his way through eight bonsais. He wanted to punch reality into the idiot kid’s head—maybe that would shake loose the damned Intersect and they could all get back to doing _real_ spy work.

“---and even Lester and Jeff are starting to get suspicious,” Chuck was saying. “Last week they asked if I’d ever been with a bear before. I thought they meant an actual bear, which isn’t weird at all, coming from them, but then Jeff—”

Casey shot air through his nose and growled deep in his throat. Calm center. Calm center. Christ. This kid needed more sweet talking than a girl on prom night. 

He spun and grabbed Chuck by the front of his t-shirt and thrust their bodies together. 

“Here’s the deal.” He glared into Chuck’s big brown eyes, and spoke the way he knew Chuck liked it—rough, and low. “Tomorrow, I will take care of the morons at BuyMore. Tonight, you’re going to help me and Walker save this great, if occasionally plagued by the liberal agenda, nation, and possibly the world.” He watched Chuck gulp—what a pussy—and shoved his thigh hard against Chuck’s. “Now are you ready to go serve your country?”

“Ah,” Chuck croaked. “Yes sir.”

Casey grunted, satisfied, and turned Chuck around, then marched them together into his apartment, where Walker was waiting in front of a screen filled with stern commanding officers.

“Agent Casey, Mr. Bartowski,” General Beckman began crisply. “How kind of you to join us.”

Casey noticed Walker’s narrowed-eyed look at him, and ignored it. “Apologies, General, Director,” he responded bluntly, with a short nod to each. “Won’t happen again.” When Bartowski didn’t chime in immediately to echo the sentiment, he jabbed the kid sharply in the ribs. 

“Ow! No, no, abso—it won’t happen again, sorry, I was just, uh, just, uh—I promise I won’t be late again.”

Casey barely managed to hold back the eyeroll as Bartowski flashed his ass-licking smile. 

*** 

"Agent Casey, I don't usually like to assign blame when things go awry in the field but in this case I don't believe it's an exaggeration to say that the loss of the Anthem device rests squarely on your shoulders." General Beckman's lips pressed firmly together - Chuck had never seen her frown so deep, or her bun so tight. "Because of your errors in judgment, the enemy agents have managed to move the device overseas to a highly secure location where it will no doubt be auctioned to the highest bidder."

"General," Sarah began, "Agent Casey acted for the best, based on the intel we had--"

"I appreciate your concern for your colleague, Agent Walker, but there's no getting around the fact that this was Casey's fault. It is only due to his long and distinguished career of service that I'm electing not to issue a formal reprimand at this time." Beckman's face was very pinched as she said this and Chuck was sure her lips would jump off her face any second, she was pursing them so hard. "However, I felt it necessary to make it clear that you are on thin ice, Casey," she continued, turning the laserbeams in her eyes back onto Casey. Chuck felt really, really bad for the guy, and wouldn't have traded places with him at this instant for a billion dollars. "Now, let's move on. As we speak, Director Graham is meeting with the heads of our agencies to determine the best course of action. We will let you know when we have finalized the strategy for dealing with the organization that stole the Anthem device - in the meantime, I expect all of you to stay on high alert for any indications as to the exact location of the device now. Maintain extreme caution if you encounter any more members of this enemy organization - we need to bring them in alive." Beckman gave them a final basilisk glare over her interlaced fingers. "Dismissed." The screen went blank.

"Whoo," Chuck exhaled, pretending to wipe off his brow, only to discover actual sweat there. "She was _not_ happy."

Casey continued staring blankly at the blue screen and the NSA logo at its center.

"But hey, c'mon, we'll get it back," Chuck said, stepping closer to Casey. "I mean, the General was a little harsh. If she'd been there--"

"If she’d been there, we wouldn't be _here,_ " Casey abruptly growled, pivoting to face him. "She would've had backup for the transfer; she wouldn't have been ambushed and the damned Anthem would be safely on its way to DC by now."

"Okay, maybe, but--" Chuck started.

"Can it," Casey snapped. "I'm not a little girl and I don't need you to kiss it better." He stomped out of the room with a look of disgust.

"What--what'd I say?" Chuck asked, looking to Sarah for help. She shook her head and gave him a tired smile.

"It happens to all of us," she said. "From time to time, we screw up. We got lucky this time - so far no one's been killed but that may change if we don't act fast." She touched his shoulder. "The best way to make Casey feel better is to track down the people who took the Anthem and get it back."

Chuck nodded. "Got it. Find international arms dealers and re-acquire weapon of mass destruction. No problemo."

Chuck spent the rest of the day and into the night going over the information Sarah and Casey had downloaded on the Anthem and its origin. He read through what felt like thousands of pages of intercepted communications, schematics, internal memoranda, cryptic emails between agency strategists, tactical team reports, and lots and lots of photos of horribly dead people. It was gruesome, but every time his stomach turned he remembered the way Casey had stood there, stone-faced and unblinking, as Beckman had reamed him out in front of them. It also made skipping dinner bearable, despite the fact that Ellie had made cheesy chili mac, with crushed Fritos and jalapenos sprinkled on top. At four sixteen a.m., it finally happened. Chuck flashed.

"I got it. I got it!" He stood up, and almost tripped over his swivel chair. "Ow, dammit, agh--ugh. Finally!" He shook his head to clear it, then went over to his window to see if the light was still on at Casey's - and found Casey's eyes glinting at him from between the slats.

"Shee-yeow!" Chuck leaped back, then reached to the side to pull up the blinds and push open the window. "Jesus Casey, you scared the crap out of me!"

"That's the idea," Casey replied, his eyebrows protruding from his head in the usual intense expression. "Whadja see?"

"You know, for such a big dude you move awfully fast," Chuck said, still coming off the spike of adrenaline that Casey's unexpected appearance triggered.

"Yeah, blink and you'll miss me - now what did you find out, Bartowski?" Casey ground out.

"Okay, okay - it's a group led by Thai dissidents, trying to raise capital for their next coup. They came in posing as visiting scientists and got access to the labs where the Anthem components were being stored. They're based in Yala but they have support networks in East Hollywood, Dubai, and Berlin."

Casey grunted. "A regular axis of evil. Any clue where they are now?"

"There's a security conference being held--"

The sudden sound outside Chuck's bedroom door had Chuck whipping his head around and grabbing Casey's arm through the open window. 

"Chuck?" It was Ellie. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah!" Chuck called back, panicking.

"Can I come in?"

"Uh, actually sis, I'm just--"

Ellis opened the door and poked her head in. "Who are you talking--oh!" She stared at Chuck, who smiled his best nothing-to-see-here smile. "Hi, um, John. What, um." She closed her eyes and opened them again. "What are you guys doing?"

Chuck swallowed and gripped Casey's arm more tightly without thinking. When the bare brawny forearm beneath his fingers swelled, Chuck glanced down and yanked his hand away--

Or would have, had Casey not covered it with his own in an abrupt and awkward hand shake.

"Just saying good night," Casey rumbled. "Chuck here was helping me through a bout of insomnia."

"Yeahhh, right," Chuck said, shaking back and nodding at his sister. "Don't worry about reconciling the inventory, m'kay, pal? We'll work it out tomorrow. The BuyMore inventory system is way obsolete, sometimes it does some funky things..." He threw a nervous look back at Ellie, whose skepticism was written loud and clear on her sleep-creased face.

"Sure, sounds great--thanks man," Casey answered in a surprisingly regular nice guy voice, with a friendly expression to match. Chuck, caught off-guard, tilted his head in a _huh,_ and grinned.

"Okay, well, I'm going back to bed - night Chuck. John." She gave Chuck another penetrating glance and withdrew from the door, shutting it.

"Phew," Chuck breathed out, just as Casey said, "So where's the Anthem?" The growl and the forehead V were back.

"Oh, uh," Chuck paused, nonplussed by the transformation. "Uh, it’s been hidden at a warehouse downtown, but they’re taking it to Dubai to meet with potential buyers at a security conference next week."

"I'll call it in," Casey said. "See if we’ve picked up any chatter around town. Beckman may want to let it play out; intercept the sale so we can pick off every last one of these mercenary scumbags." Without another word he turned from the window and vanished into the palm fronds, leaving Chuck to shut it before collapsing into bed. Two and a half hours until his alarm got him up for another day at the BuyMore.

When the alarm did go off, Chuck didn't hear it. It was Ellie, knocking on the door, who woke him. "Chuck, hey. Sweetie, are you all right?"

Chuck raised his head - he was still in yesterday's clothes, on top of the sheets.

"Wha? What time...?" He asked blearily as Ellie came in.

"Are you feeling okay?" She was dressed for work, with her bag on her shoulder. She sat on the edge of the bed and put a hand to Chuck's head. "Mm, no fever."

"Oh! My god, I'm going to be late!" Chuck yelped, finally glimpsing the bedside clock. He vaulted out of bed, almost fell over the shoes on the ground, and regained his balance. "Is Casey - I mean John - waiting outside? Oh man, he’s gonna kill me!"

Ellie's expression altered slightly, but Chuck was throwing off his shirt and pulling on a fresh one. "No, he stopped by earlier but left when I told him you weren’t up yet,” she said. 

Chuck stumbled, hopping into his pants. "Great,” he muttered. “I’m sooo looking forward to having him bite my head off when I get in.”

"Hm,” Ellie hummed, but Chuck didn’t hear. “Well, don't hurt yourself getting dressed," Ellie said.

"Hah," Chuck responded. "Yes, I will try not to do that. Thanks for the message." He watched Ellie get up slowly and smooth out the sheet.

"Okay, I've got to get to work," she said, looking at him. After a moment, she moved to the door. "Hey Chuck."

He pulled his pants on the rest of the way. "Yeees?"

"If there's ever anything--and I mean anything--you want to talk about, or anything you want to tell me, about anything--you know you can come to me, right?" Her face was earnest; her voice almost pleading. Chuck frowned, confused, then smiled.

"I know that, Ellie," he said, going over to her. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Well..." she hesitated. "I just--last night, with John..."

When she didn't go on, Chuck prompted, "Yeah?"

She exhaled heavily and squeezed his shoulder. "Was he....? Are you..." Chuck shook his head as she cleared her throat. "Mm-hm. Okay. Are you two seeing each other?"

Chuck's eyes bulged out in a fashion not dissimilar to Casey's. He was speechless for a full five seconds, then started laughing in an actually-I’m-hyperventilating way.

"What--why would you think that??" Chuck finally choked out. Ellie was staring at him with a small, not quite credulous smile. "I'm—not--you know I'm dating Sarah!"

Ellie shut her eyes and opened them. "No, I know, I know." She shook her head. "It's just - half the time when she comes over, John does too. And you spend a lot of time with him, carpooling, and at work, going over to his apartment after work and on weekends."

"Gee sis, I didn’t know you were keeping such close tabs," Chuck murmured, thinking that hm, he could kind of see where she got this (completely crazy, totally insane) idea.

"I'm not trying to spy on you or anything, but you’re still my baby brother.” She half-smiled and stroked down his arm. “I can't help noticing certain things, that’s all.” She took in a big breath. "Look, I don't want to make you uncomfortable, or talk about anything if you’re not ready—and plus I really do have to run.” She leaned in and hugged him close. “But Chuck—I love you and support you, no matter what. Okay?” She pushed back and looked up at him, worried and warm all at once.

Chuck could not believe he was even having this conversation. He patted her back. “Thanks sis, but seriously, we’re just friends!” 

Ellie just gave him a tiny (unconvinced) smile and headed out the door. “See you tonight,” she said.

“More like co-workers, really!” he called after her. He sighed, a little defeated, and scurried down the hall to the bathroom, before remembering that he’d left his Game of Thrones book out in the living room. He went out to get it—he was already late, two more minutes made no difference—but stopped when he overheard Ellie, her voice hushed, from just by the front door. 

“Devon,” she hissed, “I think they were _kissing!_ ” 

Chuck almost exclaimed out loud at that—we _were_ not!—but being a sort-of-spy was rubbing off on him, it seemed, because he zipped it and kept still enough to hear more.

“Are you sure?” Awesome asked. “It was the middle of the night, and you were pretty tuckered out yesterday—”

“Oh no, I was wiiiide awake the second I saw John by the window. You should’ve seen the way Chuck looked at me, with this—this look of guilt on his face—and John! Oh! He tried to cover it up but I saw him—he was really, _really,_ upset that I showed up and, and, _interrupted_ them. I mean, if looks could kill.”

Chuck had to physically clap a hand over his own mouth to muffle the noise of protest that was about to escape.

“Babe, babe, you’re getting so worked up about this,” Awesome replied. “So they were holding hands”—Chuck’s brows came down hard—“after hours, in Chuck’s room—”

“I think Chuck was sneaking back inside,” Ellie broke in. She sounded truly unhappy. “After spending the night at John’s. I mean, he basically disappeared after getting home from work, and he didn’t even come down for dinner even though I made his favorite.” A pause. “He never misses cheesy chili mac.”

“Honey,” Devon said quietly. “Even if you’re right, and Chuck’s…with this dude…what’s so bad about that? I mean, if he’s happy?”

“No!” Ellie’s bag jangled. She was shaking her head, her whole body. “Of course I want him to be happy! But why’s he keeping it a secret from me? He’s always told me everything, and now—now I just don’t know what’s happening with him anymore. I just—I feel like I’m losing him.”

Chuck took a step, barely missing the squeaky panel on the floor. Oh Ellie, he thought, I wish I could tell you. I wish I could tell you everything I’ve been through these last few months. 

“Babe, you’re going to get stuck in traffic,” came Awesome’s gentle voice. “How about this? Let me try to talk to him, see if I can get the 411 on the sitch with his new guy friend?”

A short sigh, and then, “Okay honey—thanks for listening. Ugh, I’m so lucky to have you.”

“You know it,” Awesome said. “Come on babe, hug it out.”

*** 

“And THEN she was like, ‘I think they were _kissing!_ ’” Chuck burst out, arms wide. He clenched his hands into fists and pulled them close to his face. “I just—I almost lost it, guys.” 

They were alone in the Wienerlicious, with the window shades down and the Closed sign up, and Sarah was doing her utmost not to lose it herself. She averted her eyes and thought of the Albanian drug ring she’d busted a few years ago. Slaughtered them all with her sidearm and her hair knives. 

“So, basically she thinks I spent the night at your place and that my big secret is that”—Chuck sighed—“we’re dating.” 

“And this happened last week?” Sarah asked. “Why didn’t you tell us right away?” She risked a glance at Casey. His thick arms were crossed in front of his chest, and his face was impassive. Sarah observed the tiny twitch of his third and fourth fingers on his left hand, against the crook of his elbow. They crossed and uncrossed. Casey was rattled.

“Are you kidding?” Chuck exclaimed. “Do you know how hard it was for me to get the words out of my mouth, just right now? With both of you sitting here?”

Sarah cleared her throat. “Um, well, Chuck,” she said gently, “Ellie’s not wrong. That actually _is_ your big secret. At least, half of it.”

Chuck looked at her helplessly. Casey looked over too, and she held his gaze. Inducement, Sarah thought, narrowing her eyes slightly at the other agent. You brought this on yourself, Casey. 

Casey’s eyes flared back. 

“What—what do you mean?” Chuck asked.

“What she means, dumbass, is that we need a cover,” Casey snarled without taking his eyes from Sarah’s. 

“But we already have a cover—we work at the BuyMore together,” Chuck answered in bewilderment.

“Yeah? So you get handsy with those other morons from the store in the dead of night?”

“What-- _me?_ Handsy??!” Chuck sputtered. “You’re the one who’s always grabbing me and shaking me up and down! FYI, I am _not_ your personal piñata, okay?!?”

Sarah couldn’t hold onto her face and lapsed into a brief smile. She shook her hair back to hide it and reached across the table to Chuck’s hands. “Chuck.” She squeezed his fingers, and he clutched back. “You’ve been doing extremely well with our cover relationship, considering all the circumstances.” She leaned forward slightly, tipping down her head, and maintained eye contact, assuming an open and connected posture. Chuck was still her asset, even if, for better or for worse, he was also becoming someone she cared about. “I know it hasn’t been easy.” She softened her tone, brushed her thumb across his knuckles. “But you’ve made it work—your friends and family have accepted me as part of your life, as your girlfriend.” 

Chuck’s beseeching expression gave way to a frown, and he opened his mouth to object. Sarah didn’t let him. “That’s what allows me to keep them safe, and to keep you safe,” she said, injecting her words with kindness. It was easy when she meant it. She let Chuck’s mouth hang open for an instant, and waited until he closed it before continuing. “Now I know this is asking a lot, but,” she brought herself even nearer to him, closed her hands over his firmly, “do you think you could make it work with Casey, too?”

Chuck’s eyebrows sprang up in horror. He swivelled his eyeballs down to the tabletop where their hands were linked, them back up to Sarah’s face, then to the left, and to the right, where Casey sat, his arms still crossed. She could feel his terror in his grip, and fought her hardest to keep a straight face. 

“Okay, okay, let me just make sure I’m getting this,” Chuck said, sounding infinitely weary. “So, in addition to having a government supercomputer stuck in my head for the foreseeable future, plausibly fake-dating the hottest woman on the planet, lying to everyone I know in order not to get abducted, tortured, and chopped up into itty bitty little pieces, I now have to make everyone believe that I’m going through a crisis of sexual identity?” 

Casey snorted. “It won’t be hard,” he said, his lip curled at one side. “You’re already an expert at making goo-goo eyes and pining after someone like a pathetic puppy dog.” He angled his jaw and his eyes blazed at Sarah. She glared back at him—why was he making this more difficult than it had to be? A tremendous opportunity had fallen into their laps; Casey should’ve been thrilled by the tactical advantages that—unless. Sarah’s eyes flickered at the sudden thought. Was he jealous? 

Something in her face must have tipped Casey off, because one moment he was thrumming his fingers on his biceps, looking like he’d eaten something nasty—and the next his body pitched toward Chuck and he unlocked his arms, spread his hands across the whole surface of the table, and brushed the edge of his fingers against Chuck’s wrist. 

“Listen, Chuck,” he said, in low, coaxing tones that Sarah hadn’t heard from him before. “It’s going to be fine. Nothing you can’t handle, promise. You’ve done great work; you’re a valuable member of this team.” He put his hand on Chuck’s shoulder and squeezed it, rubbing in a slow circle. Sarah couldn’t quite believe it – but Chuck only glanced over at Casey with that look of hopeful apprehension Sarah knew so well. “Just think about it, hm?” Casey said, with one final hard squeeze. Sarah watched Casey gaze intently into Chuck’s eyes, as if Chuck alone existed in the world. She watched the lopsided smile start to form on Chuck’s face. He was eating it up. 

She sat back, marvelling at John Casey, and tried to pretend it didn’t sting at all.

***

"Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod," Chuck pattered into Casey's earpiece. His lip lifted as he swung himself over the bar and dodged through the crowd. "Bartowski, do NOT let them get to the device," he commanded brusquely, bumping past the fat cats in suits, who appeared taken aback at being shoved around by the bartender. The idiot was on the run, again, and the safety of the free world depended on his skinny ass, again. What the American public would think if they only knew - they'd want their taxes back.

"I know that's the plan but my Iron Man armor’s at the cleaners," Chuck panted through the earpiece. "Gah!" The retort of gunfire had Casey launching himself down the sparsely populated hotel corridor at full throttle. "Bartowski!"

"I'm fine! I'm fine!" came Chuck's panicked voice. "For now! They've got the elevators jammed though Casey, I've got to get to the stairs."

"Head to the roof!" Casey barked, steaming through a cluster of surprised sheiks. "I'll meet you there!"

"Okay but hurry, hurry! I don't think these guys appreciated it when I dropped the gold bullion on Sheikh Mohammed's junior wife's foot!"

Casey growled to himself and banged open the door to the stairwell. Butterfingers Bartowski does it again. He'd better not drop the Anthem. "Walker!" he shouted into his watch. "Change of plans. We'll need air support asap - prepare for immediate extraction - I'm on my way up now."

"Copy that," came Walker's voice, as Casey sprinted up fifteen flights.

His quads were burning and his lungs were ready to explode by the time he reached the top but he hardly felt a thing. "CaseyCaseyCasey!" Chuck yelled, shrilly enough to worry him. Casey shot the door open and sprang onto the roof deck, squinting against the sudden shock of light. He scanned the area and picked up Bartowski, backing toward the far edge. A goon in a slick suit stood directly between them about two feet from Chuck, his weapon raised to Chuck’s head.

"Give it to me, Mr. Carmichael!"

"Okay, okay, I want to, I do, but there's, there's a problem, see?" Chuck spoke very rapidly, holding up his palms. "I know if I don't, you'll shoot me, although frankly I'm getting the impression that you're gonna do that anyway--"

"The device, Mr. Carmichael!" ordered the terrorist with a fierce shake of his semi-automatic rifle. Casey moved forward on fast noiseless feet. Where the hell was his backup?

"Okay but that's not the problem!" Chuck called, his pitch swinging high with fear. "The problem, the problem is that if I do give this, this nuclear do-hickey to you," he slowly fished it out of his tuxedo jacket, and held it up in a trembling hand, "then Casey will shoot me. Right now. Because he's watching me, and he's a patriot, and he already in the doghouse with his general, and--"

"Give it to me!" roared the enemy agent, and he lunged at Chuck, reaching out for the Anthem.

Casey shot him in the neck.

"Aghhh!" Chuck fell into a crouch with his arms over his head.

"Get up!" Casey thundered, running up and snatching the gun from the body. “Bartowski! The rest of them will be here any second!”

Chuck scrambled to his feet. "What took so long?!? And I can't believe you shot him - he was like six inches away, you might've shot _me!_ "

"Twelve inches, and I didn't, did I?" Casey snapped, hustling Chuck behind the ventilation structures along one side of the roof, near the edge. Casey's blood was surging in his ears - it had been a bad angle, a tough call – but the right one, thank god.

They'd only just ducked down, and Casey had wrested the Anthem from Chuck's hand, when the clang of a metal door startled Chuck and had Casey checking sightlines and hissing into his watch. "Walker! Where are you??" The clatter of guns and running feet seemed loud across the otherwise silent roof.

"Sorry Casey, we ran into trouble on the tarmac but are en route, ETA six minutes," came Sarah's muffled voice from Casey's wrist. She sounded unmistakably grim.

"Better make it four," Casey responded curtly. "Bartowski, c'mon." Maintaining a crouch, he moved to the railing and looked over. Perfect. "We're gonna have to jump."

"WHAT?!? Are you crazy we're sixty flights up, there's no WAY we'd survive--"

Casey clamped a hand over the imbecile's mouth and felt an aneurysm coming on. "Not onto the ground floor, Einstein, onto that balcony." He jerked his chin in its direction, about twenty feet off.

Ohhhh, said the swift rise of Chuck's eyebrows. Chuck leaned over the edge of the roof beside Casey. "You mean that thing? That tiny sliver of a balcony that's mostly hidden and really, _really_ far away?" 

Casey slung the rifle across his chest and checked behind them. The men were almost at their end of the roof. He turned to Chuck. "No time to argue - I'll go first, you follow me right after. Copy?" He slapped Chuck on the back and vaulted on top of the low wall without waiting for an answer. "Oh no no no no Casey..." he heard Chuck whimper before he hopped, tucking his knees up. He landed just inside the wall of the balcony and bounced upright on his feet, then looked up and waved at Chuck to jump.

Chuck was cringing. "Bartowski!" Casey called angrily, as quietly as he could. Any second and they'd find him - he jabbed at the floor with his finger. "Now!!" Galvanized into action, Chuck crept onto the wall gingerly. "Get down here or it's gonna be game over!" Casey bellowed. There was no need to keep it down - a firestorm of bullets suddenly spewed toward Chuck, who shut his eyes and stepped off into the air--

And landed like a rockpile of limbs on top of Casey, knocking them both down. Casey let out a grunt as the wind left him - then Chuck was patting himself all over before moving his anxious hands to Casey.

"Get off!" Casey ordered, swatting Chuck away.

"Ho! Ho my god, still alive, I'm good, are you good?" Chuck panted, pushing himself to his feet.

"Yeah, if you want to keep it that way let's go!" Casey barked, shoving Chuck toward the sliding glass door as he readied his rifle. He picked off the first two thugs whose ugly mugs appeared over the top of the wall, then raced after Chuck.

"Wow, I cannot believe the size of this place, our whole apartment would fit in here!" Chuck panted as he ran.

"Walker, meet us at the northwest side, fifty-ninth floor," Casey muttered into his watch. "They're close - we're gonna need a warm welcome."

"Understood," Sarah answered. "Is the device--"

"Secure. And since you asked, so's your boyfriend."

"Yours too now, remember?"

Casey growled to himself as Chuck opened a closet door ("Whoops - how do we get out?"). This assignment would end him. He propelled Chuck into a bedroom and jumped behind the door, eliminating four more pursuers before pushing Chuck out in front of him and dashing for the terrace while taking down the next wave of assailants behind them.

The sweet sound of chopper blades greeted them in the sun, but Sarah was shouting something through the line.

"There's no room for a landing! The pilot’s going to bring us down close as he can!"

"What?" Chuck asked when he saw Casey's face. "Aren't they coming to get us?" he shouted over the noise, gesturing at the helicopter hovering just above. Before Casey could break the bad news, fresh gunfire strafed the air. "Down!" Casey roared, slamming his hand to Chuck's back and shielding him. "Ho! You’re solid Casey, really…can’t breathe…" Chuck gasped. Sarah returned the assault with a hailstorm from the chopper's mounted gun while Casey dragged Chuck along the ground, toward the precipice. The helicopter tilted and hovered nearer - Casey could see death in Walker's eyes behind the protective lenses. The wind from the blades was blinding – squinting, Casey saw the left landing skid touch the ledge. He thrust Chuck up, onto the short wall. "Get in!" Chuck scrambled over the landing skid - Sarah didn't take her eyes off her targets - and Casey shouted in rage as a bullet clipped him in the leg. His eyes popped wide and he clenched his teeth and he felt the rush of fury take over all sensations - and then he watched Chuck fling himself back out of the goddamn chopper. "Chuck!" Sarah yelled.

"What the hell are you doing - get back up there!" Casey thundered, purple in the face. This was shaping up to be worse than the time Reagan’s aide misplaced the nuclear football at a strip joint.

"No, come on, not leaving you behind--"

"You IDIOT!" Casey exploded, but Chuck was tugging at his arms, trying to hoist him onto the ledge, turning both of them into sitting ducks for the terrorists. The chopper gave a terrible lurch and Sarah shouted, "There's too much air turbulence! We can't hold our position, we've got to go! Chuck!"

But even as she exhorted Chuck to get back inside, the helicopter bobbed hard right, away from the building. Casey gritted his teeth and lunged up from the edge, hooking a forearm over the landing skid and catching Chuck around the waist with his free arm. The chopper ascended higher, pitching and rolling with their weight. Casey's leg was in agony - the blood gushed thick and warm through his pants - and it didn't help when Chuck kneed him in the face as Casey shoved him upward, one-armed, while Sarah reeled him in.

"Agh, ngh, sorry buddy, sorry!!" Chuck choked out between ragged breaths as he attached himself to Casey's free arm and hauled him onto the floor of the helicopter. Casey hit the ground with a mighty grunt.

"What just happened?" Sarah sounded as furious as Casey, or maybe slightly less so as she was still able to articulate actual words. “You almost got yourself killed! I cannot _believe_ it, after everything we talked about, you still don’t understand how valuable you are! What the hell did you think you were doing?”

"Uhh, saving Casey...?" Chuck ventured as Sarah practically breathed fire.

"No, numbnuts, you were endangering the mission!" Casey snapped hoarsely, finally managing to use words. He growled in his throat, hating that it still hurt like a mother to get shot, no matter how many times it happened.

"Well I couldn't just abandon you!" Chuck protested.

"Yes, you could've,” Casey snarled, “and next time you get an order you'll follow it!"

"No," Chuck replied, setting his jaw with a glare. "Not if it means leaving one of you behind to get shot or stabbed or poisoned or drowned by Afghani warlords or Congolese dictators or Serbian assassins or whoever happens to be gunning for us that week." 

With a sudden spasm, Casey’s fingers punctured through the flame-retardant upholstery of the seatback he was gripping - he wrenched the seatback sharply to lever his body up and grabbed Chuck's lapel, jerking their faces close together. Chuck had jolted and reared back, but to no avail.

“Disobey a direct order from me again," Casey enunciated slowly, pulling Chuck a fraction closer, "and I will break you in ways you cannot even imagine." Chuck's wide eyes went wider as their noses touched. Casey held him there a moment, then slid his hand into Chuck’s hair and pulled until Chuck’s head turned. Casey exhaled through his nose, into the curve of Chuck’s ear; he felt Chuck shudder slightly against his hand. “If you test me, I can only promise one thing,” Casey whispered. “I’ll leave the Intersect intact.”

Chuck stilled – then, “Whoa-kay then!” He twisted his head, and Casey released him, sinking back onto his (throbbing, burning, sonofabitch) leg and the chopper floor. “That’s—yup, message received, uh, Major Casey,” Chuck stuttered, his face growing visibly heated. 

“Is that really necessary?” grumbled Sarah. Casey didn’t look at her – just kept his steely eyes fastened to Chuck and let his lips pull into a little leer. He watched Chuck swallow, avert his eyes (“Oh lookit that, is that the Burj Khalifa?”), and let the grunt of satisfaction rumble through his chest. 

***

They were standing in Chuck’s bedroom, and Chuck was freaking out. He hadn’t felt this jittery even when the bullets were raining down in Dubai – at least then he’d been able to run. There was no running from this, though – this was going down. Casey assessed him coolly, then stepped in. 

“You’re gonna be fine – it’s just talking, not disarming an ICBM,” Casey said.

“You know I’m not, I’m not comfortable with all this lying,” Chuck replied, waving his hands. “I’ve lied about where I’ve been and what I’ve been doing for months now and it’s just really taking a toll, it’s wearing me down, and Ellie’s been asking questions, lots of questions, and I’ve been telling her all these things about Sarah, and now Awesome’s going to be asking me questions—”

“And you can tell him things about me,” Casey interrupted. “Make ‘em good, Bartowski.” He held up a warning finger. 

“Isn’t there another way?” Chuck implored. The problem for him, which he didn’t think his handlers appreciated to any measurable degree, was that it was impossible to keep the fake feelings separate from the real ones. It was like, if they wanted him to _act_ like he was into Sarah, and hang out with Sarah all the time, and have her over for dinner and double dates, and go on covert missions where everyone believed he and Sarah were a couple, well then he would have to actually be into her. Like he was. And now he’d have to do all of that – with Casey. “You know, I’m not a superspy like you and Sarah,” Chuck said.

Casey grunted. _No kidding, numbskull._

“So I can’t pretend to be Sarah’s boyfriend, or, um,” he cleared his throat, “y’know, possibly exploring the theoretical fluidity of gender and sexual orientation with, uh, you,” he cleared his throat again, “without getting all emotionally invested—”

“Jesus, kid, you and your lady-feelings—”

“Right! Fine!” Chuck cut in, gesturing. “You may not like my ‘lady-feelings’ but the fact is, I have them, like every other normal human being out there who hasn’t been brain-washed by some government agency, and I can’t turn them on and off like you guys obviously can! So what I’m saying is, I don’t know if this is really such a great idea…” he trailed off as Casey, with a massive roll of his eyes, uncrossed his arms, and took Chuck’s face in his wide, warm palms. 

“Your sister and her boyfriend already think you’re taking a walk on the wild side with me,” Casey told him, passing his thumbs lightly under Chuck’s cheekbones, “and your bearded gnome friend wonders why you always come when I call. We could tell them the truth, but then we’d have to kill them.” Chuck was frozen to the spot, with chills and sparks zapping him simultaneously inside and out. He watched breathlessly as Casey’s expression softened while he spoke. The deep furrows in his forehead melted away; his mouth relaxed, revealing his lips, at rest, to be plush and full. Casey’s eyes, though, were intense as always, gazing at Chuck as if to burn him, to possess him and consume him, and Chuck was so completely mesmerized that he didn’t even realize he was being kissed until Casey’s eyes closed. Chuck sucked in air through his nose as Casey’s jaw moved along his, faintly barbed, and Casey’s broad fingertips threaded lightly through his hair. The kiss was gentle, and deep, and Chuck could feel Casey holding back, he could barely believe it but he _knew_ Casey was holding back, that behind the quiet hands and the unhurried mouth, Casey lay waiting, his power leashed, restrained. 

“This way’s easier, hm?” Casey murmured, drawing his chin back. Chuck’s eyes popped open and he looked at Casey, who smirked at him with a heavy-lidded gaze. Chuck swallowed, then began hacking up a lung.

“Just—” He held up a hand. “—a second.” He wheezed and gasped, his stomach tilting and turning. “Ah. Sorry.” He looked at Casey with watery eyes and a thudding heart. He was dizzy; he could barely stand. He was going to do this. He was really going to do this. 

“Okay,” he said, still a little raspy. “I’m back from the Twilight Zone. What—was that a, like a practice kiss? For our new cover? Are we going to have to do that in front of people? Because I’d be totally okay with that. And I mean, if we _are,_ y’know, going to be lockin’ lips”—he widened his eyes comically—“on a regular basis to help safeguard the country then maybe, I don’t know, maybe we should go again, smooth out any wrinkles, make it look convincing—”

“Yeah, yeah, keep your panties on, Bartowski,” Casey growled, pushing Chuck’s arms down as Chuck reached toward him. “I’m not that easy.” But Casey looked pleased, and he gave Chuck a little pat on the shoulder as Awesome’s voice drifted in from the hall. “Now don’t overthink it – here he comes.” Chuck tried to get a hold of Casey’s arm to prevent him from going – maybe they could tell the cover story together! – but the man was like greased lightning. He slipped through the window; Chuck turned to the face the music. 

“Hey Chuck – thanks for hanging around,” Awesome said, coming in. “I wanted to wait until Ellie left because I had something to ask you on the DL.” He approached with his typical dazzling smile. “Mind if I sit down?”

“No, no, please,” Chuck said, taking a seat himself on the bed and waiting for Devon’s next move. “What’s this about?”

“Well Chuck, it’s about you, and your new dude, John.” Devon exhibited zero signs of nervousness; he just leaned forward and said, in his warm and earnest tones, “I’m here for you, so talk to me, bro. Tell me what’s happening. You guys have gotten pretty close, am I right?” 

Chuck scrunched his face together. "Yeah, I guess you could say that." He gave Devon a smile that he hoped was not too pained. Maybe faking it with Casey was going to be easier - at least in the having-his-dreams-quietly-crushed-by-the-constant-and-inexplicable return-of-an-ex-lover-slash-spy-partner department - but overall, he had a bad feeling about this. He waited for Awesome to go on and get it over with, but Awesome didn't budge; he just looked back expectantly, with undimming empathy. 

When Chuck couldn't take it anymore, he spread open his arms. "Okay. Okay. So, so John and me. Yeah. Where to begin." He sucked in a breath and shut his eyes, then opened them. 

"We're not" - he paused. _Dating_ was what he wanted to say, but then Casey would squish him like a bug. "We're not sure, exactly, where things are going, and he's kind of a private guy, doesn't like other people poking around in his business, so if you could just not mention it next time you see him—and by the way, you might be seeing him around more often—"

"Oh, you got it," Awesome assured him. "It's locked down, bro, couldn't beat it out of me with a stick."

Chuck laughed nervously. "Well you never know, you haven't seen John's stick!" Then he heard himself, and frowned.

Awesome grinned indulgently. "So have you ever talked to Ellie about being into guys?"

"What? No!" Chuck started, then recovered with a small shake of his head. "I mean, I _am,_ apparently, but uh, I...never knew. Until I met John." Chuck's mouth had gone dry. What in the world was he even saying?!

Devon was nodding knowledgeably. "Yup. It's happened to me before too." Chuck goggled as Devon went on in a matter-of-fact tone, "Back in med school - one of the junior residents came to me, poured his heart out, said nothing like it had ever happened to him. He said seeing me was like getting hit by lightning, that he never knew he could feel that way about a man.” Devon sighed. “It kinda tore me up to do it, but I was with Ellie by then. Had to let him down easy - I felt bad for the dude, he was a good guy."

Chuck couldn’t answer for a moment. “Heh. I bet he was.” It figured.

"So was it like that for you too? Hit by lightning?"

"Ha ha, yeah," Chuck replied, tucking his arms tightly to his chest. "More like getting hit by an armored truck, but yeah," he muttered.

Devon laughed in his manly way. “I know what you mean – dude is jacked! Where does he train? Hey, we should hit him up for a rock climbing sesh; got a couple of free passes with your names on them, huh?” 

“Oh, ah, I think he mostly works out on his own,” Chuck said, suddenly picturing being on a double date with Ellie and Awesome—and Casey. He shuddered. 

“Not anymore!” Devon chuckled, punching Chuck in the shoulder. 

*** 

Back in his apartment at his surveillance station, Casey's lip curled as he watched the gabfest between Chuck and Devon. Bartowski looked disoriented, like his head had been ripped off and put back on wrong. The way the kid had melted into him after just one lousy kiss - he almost doubted the intel on Bartowski's sex life. No wonder Walker couldn’t keep her hands out of his cookie jar - he was like a baby lamb in the bedroom. A stupid, helpless, dweeb of a lamb. Casey grunted. Walker was an idiot if she thought she could keep Chuck safe forever. Neither of them could. The best they could do was follow orders, and die trying.  
“I know it comes as a big surprise,” Chuck was saying on Casey’s screen. “I mean, believe _me,_ no one was more surprised than I was, heh heh.” Keep it together, Casey thought. Just their luck; the Intersect had to get stuck inside the head of the worst liar in the world.

“Yeah, well, maybe he’s a little rough around the edges, but he reminds me of a Pi Kapp dude I knew,” Devon mused. “The guy was a total beefcake; girls loved him but he could barely talk to them. He barely talked to anyone in fact, just spent all his time out in the field – I mean the football field, he was a linebacker – and then one day he came out, met the love of his life, and he just opened up. The guy really blossomed - always had a smile on his face and a spring in his step after that.” 

“Yeah, um,” Chuck replied after a moment, “I don’t really see that happening with, uh, John…but what I mean by that is that John’s—well, he’s ex-military, he loves guns, he’s emotionally constipated—I mean, he hasn’t had a feeling since 1972.” 

Casey’s hands tightened into fists over his keyboard. “Keep it up, jackass,” he growled aloud to the screen. “Why not tell him I’m a spy too, huh?” 

“So everyone thinks he’s this big, scary guy—including me,” Chuck went on, oblivious to Casey’s rapidly increasing guttural breathing across the courtyard. “But that’s just who he is, and honestly, I don’t want him to be anything different, because I really like him and I care about him, even if he communicates mostly through grunts and often likes to ridicule things about me that I can’t help, like the delicate girth of my neck.” 

Casey watched Devon nod; he felt his blood pressure creeping back down. Chuck was finally selling it—because he wasn’t lying. Casey snorted. The dork liked him now, eh? We’ll see how long that lasts once the permanent confinement in a secure underground facility begins. 

“Too bad Sarah’s out of the picture,” Casey heard Devon say. “Ellie and I really liked her.”

“Uhhh, actually, good news!” Chuck laughed nervously. “Sarah’s still very much _in_ the picture.”

“Dude!” Devon said. Casey grimaced and shifted in his seat. Chuck was looking squirrelly again.

“No, wait, she knows about this,” Chuck said hastily, holding up his hands. “I mean, sometimes we hang out together.”

“Duuude,” Devon said, leaning back.

“No, no, not like that – I mean,”—a mayday mayday expression from Chuck as he glanced toward Casey’s hidden camera—“we’re all friends. Okay? Sarah knows, uh, that I’m—working through some things, and it’s cool with her. She’s cool.” 

Casey growled at the hitch in Chuck’s voice. “Come on, doofus, tell him that we’re both gonna be on your ass.” Casey had suggested a polyamorous relationship to Walker (“It’s a free country, nothing wrong with a little double-barreled action,”), which would’ve made for a more comprehensive cover, but Beckman had ruled it out as impossible to believe. _We’re stretching your family’s credulity as it is,_ she’d told them, eyeing Walker, then Casey—then, with a downturned mouth, Chuck. Well, amen to that. 

“John knows about my history with Sarah, our whole on-again, off-again thing, and really, we’re not that serious, Sarah and I,” Chuck babbled, gesturing broadly with his hands, “I mean at one point I thought we might be, one day, headed in that general direction, but then things happened—”

“John came along,” Devon put in.

“Yep. Yeah. That,” Chuck said, nodding resignedly. 

“John doesn’t mind you and Sarah?” Devon asked. “I mean, you know him better, but if it were me, I would _not_ want to share you.”

Chuck screwed up his face. “Okay first, EW. And second, it’ll be fine. We haven’t talked about it much, I mean, this is still pretty new, it’s a pretty new development, so I was kinda saving some of the harder conversations for after we get our whole thing”—he waved his hand in a circle—“on more solid ground.” He cleared his throat and flicked his eyes back to Casey’s camera. Casey growled to himself. Don’t choke now, dummy. Just spit it out already. 

“But you know, they’re, they’re reasonable people, and they get along, _so_ well”—Chuck rounded his eyes out at Devon—“that for the time being, I’m,” Chuck swallowed and twisted his neck. “I’ll be dating Casey. And Sarah. So no surprises if you and Ellie find either of them around here, possibly at odd hours, all right? And if I’m gone for awhile, like I’m not answering my phone or you can’t reach me or whatever—it means I’m probably with Casey. Or Sarah. So you can tell Ellie not to worry about me.” Chuck took a breath. He smiled a tiny smile. “They’ll keep me safe.”

Casey sat back with a grunt. Finally, kid. Roger that.

There was a silence as Devon looked at Chuck, vaguely awe-struck, and Chuck blew out a puff of air, fluttering the curls over his forehead. “I know it’s…unconventional…but do you think Ellie will take it okay? It’s just—I’ve never done anything like this before; I kind of freaked out and I couldn’t tell her…”

“Hey man, don’t sweat it, I’ll talk to her,” Devon replied. 

“Okay thanks,” Chuck exhaled. “You’re the best.”

“No, you are!” Devon said, a shiny white grin lighting up his face. “You’re batting for both sides!” He raised his palms to Chuck. “That is AWESOME, bro!”

Chuck laughed, breathed in deep, sighed it out. He glanced to Casey’s camera, then slapped his hands to Devon’s. “Yeah. Right. Awesome.”

Casey pulled off his headphones, but remained in the chair, watching Devon wrap an arm around Chuck’s neck and walk him out the door. So now his cover was that he was working at the BuyMore and banging Bartowski, huh? He thought of the way Chuck squirmed when Casey manhandled him, then spilled his little secrets; he thought of the way Chuck had reached for him, after the kiss. Inducement, Casey smiled grimly. Works every time. He got up and headed to the kitchen, to bake some chocolate chip cookies. He’d bring them over to Chuck’s after dinner that night, as a little surprise, maybe get a rise out of Walker if she was there. 

At last, this assignment was starting to get fun.


End file.
